


Rest

by AnxiousExtrovert341



Series: In Which Theo Raeken is Peter Hale’s Son [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bad Alpha Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Fluff, Good Parent Peter Hale, Good Peter Hale, Good Theo Raeken, Hurt/Comfort, Lawyer Peter Hale, No Slash, Peter Hale is a Softie, Scott McCall (Teen Wolf) Being an Asshole, Sick Theo Raeken, Sickfic, Sleepy Theo Raeken, Theo Raeken Needs a Hug, Theo Raeken is Peter’s son, Theo Raeken is a Hale, Theo Raeken speaks French, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, not quite AU, peter hale speaks French
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:27:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28691682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnxiousExtrovert341/pseuds/AnxiousExtrovert341
Summary: Peter was really just minding his own business. It‘s not even his his fault this time.ORTheo is sick and Peter saves the day.
Relationships: Peter Hale & Theo Raeken
Series: In Which Theo Raeken is Peter Hale’s Son [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2150862
Comments: 10
Kudos: 45





	Rest

**Author's Note:**

> First Fic on here, constructive criticism and reviews are desperately desired.
> 
> Theo’s half French because I say so.  
> Peter Hale is Theo’s bio dad because I say so.  
> They’re both good people because I say so.  
> Also, I’m sorry if this father-son relationship is unrealistic. My own father gave me ✨trauma✨.

Peter really was just minding his own business. It isn’t even his fault this time.

He’s walking through the preserve, letting his mind wander. He knows these woods like the back of his hand.

There’s a flash of yellow eyes in the trees to his right and instantly, Peter’s on high alert. Friend or foe? 

The animal, which he quickly identifies as a coyote, approaches him. He’s 99% sure it’s Theo, and doesn’t quite know how to react. 

He looks...off, lost. 

“Hey, you okay?” Peter drops to one knee to gently stroke a hand along the coyote’s spine. Theo whines in response, eyes blown wide in primal panic. “Alright.”

He rumbles a growl deep in his chest, still running a hand through his fur. It was a trick he’d picked up soothing the young betas in his pack as a teenager. If he concentrates, Peter can feel the too-fast thrum of his heartbeat. He stays that way for a while, letting Theo press himself against the man, desperate for physical contact.

“What’s wrong, little one?” He murmurs to the chimera, tugging on the fragile bond between them. He feels fear and panic and stress hit him like a freight train. Peter makes a noise of sympathy at the back of his throat. 

He shifts his position so that he’s sitting on the forest floor against a tree, Theo covering almost his entire left side. The weight is heavy but not unwelcome as he cards a hand through his fur once more. 

It doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep and Peter isn’t far behind. His son, he can’t help but think, this is his son. 

When he wakes, it’s to the coyote sliding out from under his arm, and the sound of four legs becoming two. 

Theo comes back in human form and thankfully clothed about a minute later. To Peter’s surprise, he tucks himself back under his arm and rests his head on his shoulder, breath fanning out across his neck. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice reminds him that the kid shouldn’t be this warm, but he’s too tired to make any sense of it.

The werewolf smiles, pulls Theo a little closer, and presses a chaste kiss to his hair, letting sleep claim the both of them once more. 

Only once the light starts fading does Peter decide he should probably rouse the sleeping teen. At this time of year, darkness comes fast, and the kid’s starting to shiver. It’s only then he realises Theo is wearing a thin t-shirt in what is definitely not t-shirt weather. He must be freezing. 

“Theo?” 

“Hmmm.”

“You need to get home.” 

“But you’re so warm,” he breathes, “n’ I’m tired.” Theo’s still half asleep, and Peter relishes in this rare moment of vulnerability he’ll probably never see again. He’s definitely sick, there’s a tinge to his cheeks and his body is radiating heat and shivering simultaneously.

“I know, darling,” he murmurs, “I know. You’ll feel better once we get to the car, I promise.” 

Peter sheds his jacket and wraps it around the chimera’s shoulders. He stands and pulls Theo upright, watching him sway a little. He seems more alert now, at least, though still tired. 

“How long have you been sick?”

“since midday, maybe one, Deaton said it would pass within twenty-four hours,” Theo trips on a tree root and only Peter’s superhuman reflexes keep him from hitting the floor. The werewolf keeps a hand on his arm as they continue towards his car.

“And the panic attack?”

He stiffens at that, “I don’t like being trapped. The others, they meant well, but I felt almost claustrophobic and they couldn’t understand. Had to get out.”

“I know the feeling,” he says dryly. Spending six years in a coma tends to have that effect. “Where were you?” 

“Scott’s house.” 

“I take it I’m not dropping you back there.” 

“I don’t really have anywhere else to go,” he confesses, looking at the floor.

“You can stay at my place if you want,” Peter offers without thinking. The look Theo gives him, full of cautious hope, is worth it. 

“I, uh, thank you. I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow, I swear.” 

“Theo, you can stay for however long you need, it’s not like I’m home most of the time anyway.” That was true, he was a busy man. 

“Can I think about it?” 

“Of course, it was just an offer.” They reach the car and Peter watches with concern as Theo basically falls into the passenger seat, discomfort clear on his face. “You should text Scott, let him know you’re okay.” 

He groans, but takes out his phone anyway, sending a quick text. A moment later his phone rings and a Theo picks it up with a barely masked wince, “‘lo?”

It’s Scott, bombarding him with questions like an inconsiderate ass. Theo answers them all but his eyes are filled with pain and his free hand tugs at his hair, hyperesthesia then. 

“Who are you with?” Scott demands. 

He hesitates, “Peter, Peter Hale.” 

The reaction is loud enough to make Theo drop the phone in favour of holding his head in his hands. Peter carefully turns off the phone before placing a hand on the back of his neck, drawing the pain. 

He’s out like a light. 

Peter parks and glances at the poor kid, he’s clearly wiped out. Getting him to his apartment wouldn’t be easy on him. The werewolf slides out of the car and opens the passenger door, putting a hand on his shoulder. Theo jerks awake with a gasp and has to take a moment to get his bearings. 

The stairs are actually an easier ordeal than expected, and Peter makes quick work of the door. An elderly woman approaches them, “Peter, how are you?” 

“I’m fine, thank you Mrs Prescott, though I can’t say the same for this one,” he nods to Theo, who’s leaning against the wall and looking like death. 

“Ahh, a little under the weather?” 

“Yes.” Peter pushes open his door and gently nudges the kid inside. “Have a good evening, Mrs Prescott.” 

“You too, dear.” 

He steers Theo into the spare bedroom, “shoes, jacket and shirt, then you can sleep,” he says quietly. The kid does as he’s told and collapses onto the bed, snuggling under the duvet.

“P’ter?”

“Yes.” 

There’s a pause. “Could you open the window?” Ah, trapped, of course. Peter opens the window and leaves the door ajar too. 

“You’re safe here,” he tells him. 

“I know,” he whispers. Theo shifts slightly and then falls into unconsciousness.

Peter gets some soup going, the same one that a Talia used to make when one of the young betas was sick. How many times had Peter brought a steaming bowl of the stuff to someone’s room? How many times had he himself been given some?

A memory resurfaces in his mind, his sixteen-year-old self a sniffy, aching mess. Talia’s usual smirk softening as she placed a bowl in his hands and a kiss to his forehead. 

He leaves it to boil and picks up a book, one ear trained on the spare room. 

There’s a thud from that direction. It has Peter up and moving faster than he’d like to admit. In front of the window stands Scott McCall, eyes glowing and a snarl on his face as he takes in the two occupants. 

“What did you do to him?” 

“Nothing.” Peter’s more preoccupied with Theo, who looks pained and miserable. He presses a hand to the chimera’s forehead and makes a disapproving noise, he’s burning up. Black lines snake up his arm as Peter siphons his pain. 

“Peter?” Theo cracks an eye open.

“Hey.” 

“I don’t feel so good.”

“I know, my love,” Peter says softly, pressing a brief kiss to his hair, “go back to sleep.” 

“Have you drugged him? Is there magic involved?” Theo flinches at the volume of the true alpha’s voice. 

“If you’re going to fling accusations at me, do it quietly. He needs to sleep.” 

Scott reluctantly follows Peter into the living room, anger coming off him in waves. “Theo doesn’t nap, and he would never go anywhere willingly with you, much less let his guard down. It doesn’t make sense!” 

“He’s sick, I assume you know that.”

“Yeah.” 

“You and your...pack were taking care of him. Theo expressed his dislike at being fussed over and forced to stay put.” 

“We thought he was just being difficult.” 

“I found him in the woods, midway through a panic attack and in full shift.”

“How were we supposed to know that?”

“Pack bonds, Scott, you can feel what he feels if you concentrate. Once he’d calmed down, I offered to let him stay at my place.”

“And he said yes?”

“Obviously, you idiot.”

Scott eyes him suspiciously but then Peter’s timer goes off and he leaves to attend to the soup. The teen follows him. “I just don’t understand, why you?” 

“He didn’t choose me, Scott, I was just there.” 

“Why not come back?”

“Because you were stressing him out. There’s only so much mental and physical distress a person can take.” Peter tastes it, adds more salt, and tastes it again, finally satisfied.

“Why do you even care? It’s not like you know him.”

“Contrary to your beliefs, McCall, not everything I do has an ulterior motive. The kid was panicking, so I made sure he was okay. I trust you can find your own way out?” 

“But-“ Scott seems to realise that he’s lost this one, and shuts his mouth, leaving. 

Peter dishes out a bowl of the soup and takes it to Theo. He has to bite back a smile as he notices the way he’s sprawled out across the bed, surrounded by pillows and snoring softly. He looks younger like this, and so, so innocent. 

He sets the soup on the bedside table and goes to leave, but Theo’s face scrunches up adorably as he detects a new scent in the air. “P’ter?”

“Sorry I woke you,” he says gently. 

“Stay.” For a moment Peter’s sure he misheard, but the teen shifts to make space and looks up at him with half-lidded, unfocused eyes.

He kicks off his shoes off and slides into the space Theo had made. Said chimera promptly throws an arm and a leg over him, head resting over his heart. He sighs softly, breath tickling Peter’s neck, “g’night dad.” 

There’s no way Theo doesn’t hear the way his heart skips a beat. “Goodnight, Theo.”

Peter wakes up at six, and the teen is still draped over him like an octopus. The sight is endearing and he’s once again amazed by how small he looks, asleep like that. He wants to stay there for a while, but Theo’s like a human heater and it’s uncomfortably hot. 

Peter’s just picked up his book when he hears a whine from the spare bedroom, a noise more coyote than human. The chimera is still mostly unconscious, a frown on his face. Peter sets his coffee next to the forgotten soup on the table and settles back down on the bed, sitting up against the headboard. 

Theo shifts until his head lands on his thigh, features going slack. Peter glances down, smiles to himself, and cards a hand through his dirty blond hair, turning his attention back to his book. 

They stay like that for almost an hour before Theo wakes up. His eyes are no longer fever-dulled and he looks a lot better than he did last night. 

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” 

“Morning,” Theo yawns. He checks his phone and sighs. “I should go back to the loft and let everyone know I’m still alive.” 

“Okay, take care of yourself,” Peter agrees easily. 

He finds his shirt and shoes and throws them on, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “I need a shower when I get back.” 

“I think we both do,” he chuckles. 

Theo goes to leave. 

“Jacket,” Peter reprimands. 

He rolls his eyes but grins and picks up the jacket. It’s one of those fur-lined denim ones. Good quality, not that Peter would buy anything less. 

His father watches him go with a fond smile. 

Peter keeps an eye on his fragile, yet strengthening pack bond with Theo during the day. He’s working from home today, just a few emails here and there, so it’s easy to check up on him. (He’s not a helicopter parent, shut up).

Peter’s almost done with his emails when he gets a text from Derek saying they’re meeting at the animal clinic. It’s not an invitation, per se, but he likes to stay in the loop. 

He stays in the background as usual, listening to Scott talk...and talk...and talk. Christ does this kid ever shut up? Any silence is quickly filled with Stiles and it’s giving him a headache. 

Derek makes his way over, an unrecognisable expression on his face. “So Scott came back last night,” he says in a low tone, “smelling like the soup mom used to make.” 

Peter can’t help the smile that spreads over his face, “is that so?” 

“You’re such a softie, uncle Peter,” Derek shakes his head. 

“It’s tradition,” he defends, “I’ve never been sick without that soup.” 

“You have any extra?” 

“I’ll send some to your place.” 

He nods in thanks and turns his attention back to the self-righteous idiot in front of them. Peter watches as Theo yawns, the day had clearly taken a toll on him. He leans back against the wall and closes his eyes, still standing. 

Half an hour later, Scott finally lets them go home. Everyone is restless and eager to leave. Except Theo, who seems to have actually fallen asleep where he stood. 

Liam touches his arm and the kid comes to, eyes flying open and muscles tensing. “You okay, dude?” 

“I’m fine,” he reassures, “just scared me is all.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” 

Liam leaves and the door shuts behind him. Peter takes that as he cue to approach. “You look exhausted,” he notes. 

“I really wasn’t up for dealing with them today.” 

“Home?” 

“Home.” 

Theo falls asleep in the car. It’s adorable and Peter smiles like an idiot when he notices. He acts mature, a side effect of the horrors he’d seen, he supposes, but in sleep he looks so much younger. A part of Peter wishes he’d met his son when he was this carefree. 

He parks the car and hesitates for a moment. He’s woken up Theo a few times, and most had resulted in the kid jolting awake, eyes wide with panic. 

Peter lets his fingers brush over the chimera’s hand. The touch is just perceptible enough to catch Theo’s attention without reminding him of any demons from his past. It has the desired effect and he stirs, blinking slowly. He slurs something in what Peter’s pretty sure is French before he wakes up properly. “We home?” 

“Yeah, we’re home. Lets go.” He made a mental note to ask about that later.

They make their way into the apartment and Theo kicks off his shoes and stumbles towards the couch. 

Peter catches his arm and tugs him towards the spare room. “No, bed.” 

He makes it to the bed before passing out. Peter sighs through his nose but gently tugs off his precious jacket and Theo’s socks before covering him with the duvet. He subconsciously curls into the warmth and the werewolf can’t resist pressing a chaste kiss to his wild hair before leaving the room. Peter literally just tucked the kid in. He’s such a parent. 

The next morning, Theo wakes up to a steaming cup of coffee on the table and Peter sitting on the couch with his laptop. 

“There should be bread and such in the kitchen, help yourself,” he calls over his shoulders, typing furiously.

“Thanks,” he calls back. 

Theo finds some peanut butter and bread, making himself a sandwich. He sits down on the dining table behind the couch and glances over Peter’s shoulder, “what you working on?”

“An extremely angry email to one of my dumbass associates.”

“You’re a lawyer?”

“I argue with everyone, of course I’m a lawyer.”

Theo snorts and takes a bite of his sandwich. “What did the poor associate do?”

“Forgot to file a vital piece of evidence, and then screwed up the entire case because the rest of the evidence looked like a fluke without it.”

“Sucks,” Theo says solemnly.

“I meant to ask, do you speak French?” 

“Yeah, my mother’s side was French. It only comes out when I’m running on fumes though.” 

Peter pauses, “So are you Theo or Théo?” 

“Théo, technically, but no one really calls me that anymore,” he admits. “You speak French?”

“I grew up with Chris Argent.”

“Ah.” Theo finishes his sandwich and washes his plate and knife in the sink before joining Peter on the couch with his AP bio textbook. 

They work in silence for a while before Peter reminds him that he needs to get ready for school. 

“I presume you’re going to the loft after school? A key in case I’m not home.” 

Theo catches the key, pockets it and picks up his bag, pausing in the doorway, “thanks dad.” 

Peter’s pretty sure his heart stops beating, but the kid already gone.

“Á plus!” He calls from down the hall, smile in his voice. 

Peter can’t stop the grin that spreads over his face.


End file.
